The Chiroptologist and the Film Buff
by PureBatWings
Summary: Harry studies bats for a living. Severus has found a refuge in a small town in Wales and Harry tracks a tagged bat to Severus' home...
1. Batty about You

The Chiroptologist and the Film Buff

"Stop struggling," he suggested conversationally, the wooden wand held firmly in his hand. His captive continued to flail in the netting that ensnared him.

"Believe me, you'd hate the after effects of a Petrificus Totalis curse," said Harry warningly. He had spent many evenings tracking this wily winged aberration, so he wasn't about to let it get away so easily. Almost as if it understood, the bat stopped thrashing about.

"That's more like it. Let me get a good look at you," he added conversationally, as he deftly untangled the claw of one of its wings from the net's filament and wrapped it in a towel, leaving a wing free. He pulled a metal tracking tag from the pocket of his field vest.

Before the bat could protest or struggle further, he'd clipped a metal tag on the leading edge of its wing with a practiced move using tweezers and used surgical glue to attach a radio transmitter to the skin of its back. Neither tag would prevent it from flying or hurt the creature, but Harry had also included a few spells of his own devising to make sure the radio chip on the tag wouldn't get removed accidentally or fall off.

He pulled the rest of the bat free of the towel and held it gently but firmly in his gloved hand. It was an adult male. He weighted it and flipped it over to observe it, yup, grayish belly fur typical of _Myotis myotis,_ the Greater Mouse-eared Bat. The species had been very rare in the UK during most of the twentieth century, being declared extinct in 1990 in the UK. Since then a few males hibernating in southern England had been found in 2002. He wondered if this guy was native or, more likely, a European immigrant.

'So… where's your colony then? You got a lady friend having your pups in a nice old attic or cave?" The bat blinked its dark eyes at Harry and then turned his head away.

"I'm sure you don't want to be alone, going the route of Martha the passenger pigeon," Harry commented, measuring the bat's body length and wingspan and noting the data down in his Moleskin notebook. "You'll end up a bitter old bat, just as solitary as I am, talking to creatures who can't talk back." The bat chittered at him and struggled. His observation notes finished, he opened his hand. "Go on, then, maybe we'll meet again." It flapped off into the twilight towards the north and west.

Aunt Petunia hated bats. What was more, she was irrationally afraid of them. Her Dudykins might get bitten and get rabies. Never mind only a very very small percentage of bats were rabid and that humans were far more deadly to bats than the reverse.

Harry thought that any bat stupid enough to chomp on his cousin would die swiftly from clogged arteries from the fat. Never mind that vampire bats were native only to Central and South America, not Surrey England. Bats ate insects and fruit, not Dursley blood.

Anything that Petunia hated and Dudley feared was cool in Harry's eyes. One of the reasons he loved to hang out at the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts wasn't to snog girls (or boys) but to observe its bat colony. After the war was over, Voldemort dead and the media frenzy about The Boy who Conquered had subsided to a duller roar, Harry had passed his NEWTS with distinction and, like Severus Snape before him, disappeared, presumably into the muggle world.

A few pulled strings, a few created school records and Alfred Wayne Harrison, "Harry" to his caving buddies and fellow zoology majors, matriculated at Trinity University in Texas. San Antonio had been an excellent place to lie low, study hard, meet some cute bi-curious frat boys and some definitely gay and talented male music majors. For years the sound of someone practicing scales reminded him of Chris, his jazz pianist boyfriend from junior year.

Harry practiced rock climbing and caving on breaks in Kentucky and Tennessee and interned tracking bats in Alabama and Texas with Bat Conservation International. His favorite place to hang out in the summer was the Camden Street Bridge at twilight, watching thousands of bats spiral up into the sky, in search of tasty bugs. After a post-doc fellowship, he'd returned to England, happy to be home after over a decade incommunicado in the States.

His latest job was working for Bat Conservation Trust helping coordinate volunteer groups doing surveys and observations of bat populations. However, in his free time, he followed up on sightings of the rarer species, and sometimes, like tonight, flying low on his broom, he got lucky.

A report of a possible Myotis sighting in the vicinity of the Welsh marches had brought him to Wales' rugged mountains where there was no shortage of caves, barns and old timbered buildings to tempt bats.

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the lousy world, Harry Potter had to end up in his local on a Saturday night for a pint, Severus thought, channeling Bogart in Casablanca. It had been a pleasantly peaceful dozen or so years without the decidedly mixed pleasure of seeing the young man alive and in person.

He'd spent his copious free time doing potions research and working his way first through Hitchcock's oeuvre and then delved into film noir with a bit of Hepburn and Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman along the way. The regional library knew Sebastian Prince well. Each Friday he would return five videos and check another five out. Interlibrary loans and now, video streaming, fed his visual addiction. assured him that film criticism books made their way to his bookshelves in the small but elaborately warded farmhouse.

He put a few pound coins down by his empty pint glass and tried to take a roundabout route to the front door without attracting notice.

"Seb! Seb Prince, Resolve me and Davy's bar bet. What's the earliest vampire in a horror movie? My money's on Nosferatu, that German guy."

Reluctantly Severus turned back towards the room. No need to upset his drinking buddies without good cause. It had taken years of buying rounds to be accepted, after all.

"And Daffyd Davies, what would your guess be?" he drawled, ugly flashbacks on goading Hogwarts students into using the brains that differentiated them from houseplants rising in front of his eyes.

"There's gotta be an earlier vampire film than that. Dracula," said Davy decisively. "He's the most famous vampire, after all."

"Call it a draw, gentleman and buy each other a round. You're half wrong Davies and you're totally off, Jones. The first horror film on record is _Le Manoir du Diable_ (1896), by George Melies. It's three minutes long and has vampires, witches and other supernatural creatures in it," decreed Severus, making swiftly for the door. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Potter finish his drink and stand. He slammed the door decisively behind himself and left a tripping charm for Potter to discover on the doorstop.

He ducked into a garden and took a short cut through an alleyway. His apparition disturbed a few amorous moggies, but he got past his home's wards unmolested by the Gryffindor. He wanted to talk with Potter, but on his terms and on his turf, not in front of an avid audience of gossips keen to pick up scraps of information about their village's eccentric movie buff. Unfortunately all he needed to do was wait. Potter would come to him as surely as a compass turned northward.

He poured himself a few fingers of whiskey and set another glass out for his expected visitor. Soon enough, his gate creaked open. He waved a hand, letting the wards drop and the front door open slightly. He raised his voice.

"Get in here already, Potter. I've a bone or five to pick with you."

Potter entered his house, apologies already on his lips. That was gratifying.

"I'm sorry about the Pensieve and not preventing Nagini for using you as a chew toy and not writing—not that I've been in touch with anyone in the Wizarding world or knew where you had disappeared to—and…"

"Enough! Whiskey?"

Harry nodded and carefully perched on the edge of the wingback armchair across from Severus' chair as Severus poured an inch into the glass and passed it over.

"Where have you been, then, when you're not popping up in my hometown pub like a demented Weasley jack in the box?"

"Oh, Kentucky where whiskey is as much a religion as Scotland, perhaps more. And Texas and Alabama and in American caves and belfreys and barns," said Harry. "You have an unusual visitor in your house, probably roosting in your attic."

"You're a Chiroptologist," said Severus, as if that bland statement explained it all.

"How did you guess?" said Harry, choking on a swallow.

"You left me a few souvenirs the other night," snarled Severus.

He brought out his left hand. On his pinky finger a familiar metal tag was firmly wrapped, like an alumninum ring, its ragged edges indicating Severus had tried to cut it off by mechanical means with limited success.

"Oh! Oh…. You're the Myotis male I tagged last weekend and have been radio tracking. That explains why my radio tracker led me here."

"Quite."

"So you really were a dungeon bat," said Harry mischieviously.

"Get your dammed radio and metal tag off me, Potter."

"I created some damn near unbreakable spells to aid my research. Seems a shame to stop my tracking study after all this time… even if the bat in question is an animagus."

Severus growled and held out his hand. With a sour look he said, "Please, Potter."

Harry grinned at him and took his hand. Drawing out his wand he muttered a few words in Parseltongue followed by a squeaking noise that evaporated into frequencies beyond Severus' still keen human hearing. He followed up with a healing charm and slipped the band into his pocket. He continued to hold Severus' hand, Harry's callused fingertips rubbing soothingly, no, make that not-at-all soothingly on the older man's hand.

"And the RFID chip? As I recall that was a dorsal one. Would you like to keep it as a memento of our reunion, like a name in a heart tattoo?"

Severus rolled his eyes. Potter was being far too cheerful about this entire embarrassing event at his expense. He pulled off his pullover and unbuttoned his shirt and turned his back on Potter. Gentle fingers plucked it off from between his shoulder blades after a few more releasing spells.

He twitched his shoulder blades in relief. "You have no idea how much that itched and tugged. And of course I couldn't reach it easily to scratch."

"I could possibly address some other itches you might have, Severus. I can't imagine your small town provides many dating opportunities. After all, you didn't have a lady friend as a bat either."

"If you want a date with me, Harry, you need to provide the popcorn and I'll provide the films. We'll see," he said, drawing out the pun, "what develops..."


	2. Seeing what Develops

**Seeing What Develops**

Movies, films, cinema—whatever term one chose to use, they had been one of his favourite escapes, delights and solitary pleasures since he'd largely quit the claustrophobic morass of British wizarding society. He'd moved south and west from Scotland to Wales and lived a mostly Muggle existence.

When his war wounds ached in the cold weather, he consoled himself with the amusing spectacle of the palm trees growing down the lane in his neighbour's garden. Palm trees in the land of mists and Merlin struck him as faintly ridiculous, never mind the climate permitted them to survive.

Lately though, watching movies alone had lost some of its appeal. Far more fun was his new routine of puttering around on a Friday evening, waiting for Harry to show up. He would phone in an order- a nice takeaway from Naga's Noshes, a fusion Indian/Middle Eastern place one town over that Harry would pick up on his trip to Severus'. Severus made sure to order enough chutney, tamarind sauce, paratha and either Saag Paneer or Chicken Kashmiri for two, along with some Kingfisher beers or Woodpecker cider to accompany their meal.

Not long after six, Harry and supper would arrive. Harry drove a semi-feral Ford Anglia that had belonged to the Weasley clan at some point. He'd found it in the Forbidden Forest and coaxed it into his ownership by promising it skilled muggle mechanics to rebuild its engine and a complete refurbishment. Now with its soft leather seats and Deco inspired wood interior it far more resembled a high end sports car.

Harry had had it painted a Halloween orange with black racing stripes, which, on closer inspection, were comprised of very small stenciled silhouettes of Harry's devising—all sorts of bats. His vanity place, BATMAN was explained by the car's decals which were from Bat Conservation groups, and two bumper stickers that read "B is for Bat" and another that said "I (heart symbol) bats!" Sometimes an aerial like those on old fashioned TV antennas on a telescoping pole hung half-way out of the boot: it was part of Harry's bat tracking equipment.

Slowly Harry was introducing Severus to the world of bat studies and habitat conservation—a very different perspective than the world Severus experienced as a bat animagus. He also liked the different reactions and perspectives Harry brought to watching films, including some of Severus' old favorites.

"What movies have you already seen?" Severus asked Harry, when he'd agreed a few months ago that he would welcome Harry's overtures to being at least friends with benefits.

"Oh, just bits on the telly," said Harry dismissively. "There's only so much one can see through a crack in a cupboard door, you know."

"Do you remember any in particular?"

"Mm, the girl with magic shoes who travels around Oz. That had witches in it, so Petunia switched it off pretty soon after she was welcomed to Munchinkland. Oh, and there's a war where Atlanta burns and Scarlett wants to kill the Yankees. No magic in that one."

"Fine then, I'll have mercy on you and we'll start with some more recent films first," decided the movie buff. "Then we'll go from the merely popular to truly great films."

Harry shrugged. Anytime spent with Severus led to interesting discussions, there was no one else he'd rather talk with, and the other things the man could do with his mouth! Well, words failed Harry, but his moans seemed to be enough encouragement.

After seeing all of _The Wizard of Oz_ , Harry said, "The Wicked Witch of the West could've given Bella LaStrange a run for her money. But the film doesn't go at all into the alliances the different magic creatures must have had to avoid territorial disputes…"

After a film about a man's rise from poverty to become a newspaper magnate, Harry screeched at the ending. "Are you effing kidding me? It's his sled?!"

They watched _Gone with the Wind_ one rainy November Saturday afternoon and evening with a break for tea time and fooling around on the couch. Harry's verdict? The snogging was terrific and "Scarlett was brave enough to be a Gryffindor but conniving enough to be a shoo-in for Slytherin."

A science fiction series set in a galaxy far, far away…

"I love you," said Leia. "I know," he replied.

"Arrogant as any Malfoy, but not nearly as well dressed," proclaimed the Gryffindor who was currently lounging in ratty blue jeans and a long sleeved T shirt that said "We can't stop here! This is bat country!"

Severus then tried him on British costume dramas: A Room with a View, Jeremy Brett's version of Sherlock Holmes, the 1995 _Sense and Sensibility_. Harry chewed some of his pita pocket with falafel and tzatziki sauce. "Elinor Dashwood looks like a younger, saner version of Trelawney, isn't that disturbing? And don't you think Colonel Brandon has your nose, Severus?"

He peered at the screen. It was a Roman nose like his, but not nearly as crooked. The man hadn't had Tobias use him as a punching bag a time or two. "Not really, I can't say I see much of a resemblance," he said dismissively.

"His eyes are a lighter brown than yours; I far prefer yours," Harry said and flicked off the screen with a wave of his hand. He leapt up on the coffee table where he had been resting his feet and struck a Gilderoy Lockhart like pose.

"My lover's eyes are black like a well burnished cauldron, stalwart in the flame,

His hair dark as a bat's wings taking flight at night. His eyes are the dark of undeveloped film,

The Robe of Darth Vader, the deepness of the night around The African Queen."

He hopped off and took a healthy swallow of his beer. "Thank you for welcoming me to Blackpool, I'll be here all week, try the Biryani."

Severus huffed, half-pleased, definitely embarrassed but trying to hide his reaction. "You're a barking mad lunatic, Potter. Save the versifying for your legions of admirers."

"It's free verse," said Harry. "I do admire you excessively, you know."

"I'm going to go stretch my wings," said Severus, changing the topic. "If you'd like to accompany me tonight?"

Severus took his nightly constitutional flight, doing a few swoops at Potter's hair in retaliation for the poetry. He followed up with a barrel roll as Harry followed him easily on his broom. It was another solitary pleasure of his that now was shared with another.

"Any bat colonies nearby I haven't checked out yet?" Harry asked the bat flying nearby.

Severus flicked his ears back in a yes gesture and wheeled, charging direction toward a church on a hill a few miles off. There wasn't a roost in its belfry, but an unused stable one field over with a south facing roof hosted a colony of pipinstrelle bats.

The colony contained five banded bats among the dozens there. Approaching each one in turn in his Greater Mouse-eared bat form, Severus politely requested they show him the clips on their wings so the human staning outside wouldn't need to catch them. Numbers fixed firmly in his memory, he flew back down to where Harry was waiting, broom in hand in the moonlight.

He extended his left arm as Severus approached and the bat grabbed onto his nubbly fisherman's pullover.

"Thank you, that is so much easier than disturbing the mums and pups and getting the banded ones upset at getting caught again."

Severus debated whether he should tell Harry later that the prevailing attitude was embarrassment tempered with self-congratulation for being brave during a scary encounter.

He climbed up into Harry's already windblown hair and launched himself homeward. On the way back they flew spirals around each other for fun. At the farmhouse, Harry opened the door, expecting Severus to fly in and change to his human form inside. Instead the bat landed on his shoulder and crawled down his chest, clinging upside down to the cabling. His pointed nose sniffed deeply and appreciatively. Harry carried him inside and shut the door, and placed his broom against the mudroom/hallway's wall.

"Would you be okay with my petting you?"

He saw amusement in the dark round eyes and the bat's head bobbed once. Carefully, he ran two gentle fingers over the bat's back and along the amazing combination of muscles, bones and skin that allowed it the freedom of the skies.

Feeling magic gather, he tried to step back, as Severus retook his human shape.

Harry found his hands stroking the human skin of firm muscled shoulders and arms. His hand stilled on Severus' chest above his heart.

"You can keep going, I'll not forget the pipinstrelles' numbers", promised Severus, taking Harry's hand to lead him to the bedroom.

"I think you could make me forget my own name for several minutes. I want you so much."

"Which name, muggle or wizard?"

"Touche. 10 points to Snape, sorry Prince, formerly of Slytherin," replied Harry, and watched a familiar but loving smirk cross the man's face.


	3. Head over Heels

Head over Heels- Chapter 3

"Honey, I'm home!" sang out Harry as he carried in two takeaway bags of Chinese food from Five Fortunate Bats Restaurant.

He drew out the chops sticks, napkins and sweet and sour sauce for himself and spicy mustard packets for Severus, who liked it on his shrimp rolls. Two hot and sour soups in plastic tubs and a white carton of pork fried rice, chicken lo Mein and broccoli with cashews and beef were spread on the table. He floated over two plates from the corner china cabinet for Severus' and his meal. They were part of a blue and white set inherited from Severus' mother showing scenes of magic sites around the world. In light of his restaurant choice he went with a dish showing the Great Wall of China and another that showed the South China karst formations, Guilin's Stone Forest. He fetched a few spoons for the soup with a snap of his fingers, lit the candelabra on the table and set a warming charm for a half hour over the food.

A muffled boom from the direction of Severus' lab made it clear the potion he'd been working on was almost complete. Unlike most potions where an explosion was not what you were looking for, the Guy Fawkes Surprise commissioned by Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes had to include a certain amount of mayhem. And with autumn just around the bend, Harry's partner was busy amping up production for the November 5th holiday.

Harry retreated to their bedroom and changed into hangout casual black jeans and tee shirt with a bat silhouette and the words "The Bat Whisperer". His moccasin slippers made no sound on the worn stone floor of the passageway. He sent his patronus through the door to quietly get Severus' attention without startling him.

His stag returned, accompanied by Snape's doe, which was attentively following, not exactly fawning. "Out shortly" came Snape's baritone from the delicate looking silvery creature's mouth. Harry chuckled and headed back to the kitchen. He pulled two bottles of Freigeist's Abraxxxas beer from the fridge to go with their meal. He'd originally bought it due to an online recommendation that it worked well with Chinese food. Snape had sputtered as he read the label and nicknamed it Malfoy Beer in honor of Lucius' late, and not at all lamented, father. As if a Malfoy would be seen in public imbibing something as relentlessly plebian as a beer.

Harry popped his bottle open and had taken a few relaxing pulls when Severus appeared. His hair was pulled back to keep stray hair from contaminating his brews. He rolled up his sleeves, his left arm not blotched with a Death Eater mark, but instead hosting a vibrantly colored tattoo. The snake was now a vibrant green loop with finely detailed scales, its tail held in its mouth, like Ouroboros. The skull had been transformed with a pretty bit of spell work by Harry into a ring with a repeating unbroken Celtic key pattern around which the snake was entwined. That transformation had been Harry's thank you gift to Severus for his assistance with Harry's population survey and migration study of bats in northwest England and Wales starting last year.

"Trust the British to have a holiday celebrating a failed coup and assassination attempt," Severus said dryly, seating himself, and clicking his bottle to Harry's in a toast.

"We're the people who have a statue to Boudicca in a city she burned to the ground," Harry pointed out, popping the lids off their soups and passing one to Severus.

Severus grunted his thanks. "Hard to say if it's pawky British whimsy or tone deafness to irony in that monument's existence. How'd your week go?"

"Hmm, it was Bechstein's Bats as the focus. I think we're getting warm to figuring out which woodlands are their territories; I was mostly in southern Wales this week. Wish the little buggers weren't so darn reclusive," said Harry, scowling at an innocent bit of tofu on his spoon.

"A good bit of shade and leaf cover for finding bugs is nothing to turn one's nose up at when one's an insectivore," retorted Severus, ripping open a packet of mustard and dunking his shrimp roll's end in it.

"Do any bugs taste like chicken?" asked Harry curiously.

"Not to my tastebuds. Caterpillars have a bit of calamari's chewiness but a squishy inside," offered Snape. "But then I never was one for octopus, except using cuttlefish to dye some foodstuffs black on occasion."

"Huh. There's enough variety in human foods to keep me busy for this lifetime," Harry said, slurping his Lo Mein noisily.

Severus rolled his eyes, but refrained from hexing him, since he was planning on getting laid tonight. Hexes tended not to improve one's sex life except for the late mad, bad and dangerous to know sadist Bellatrix Lestrange. Neither of them fell into those categories. A bit of bondage or domination in bed could add a bit of spice, though, he mused, as he finished the last bit of shrimp roll and mustard. He'd have to think about that a bit…

Myotis Myotis-The Greater Mouse Eared Bat (This is Severus' animagus form).

Thanks to the Bat Conservation Trust: .uk for useful info and mug shots of different species of UK bats.


End file.
